Happy Hanukkah!
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Showing posts with label Personal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Personal. Show all posts
Friday, December 15, 2006
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Reality Of The Market & Some Inner Honesty
I woke up a bit depressed today about writing and the possibility of getting my WIP's published. It is not a new thing of course, any writer goes through these pangs of self-doubt, but one cannot forever live in la-la land all one's life, and keep on hoping.
Recently I have been particularly focused on my short story collection "Ancient Tales, Modern Legends". And I know that this is the hardest type of book to sell to any publisher. Though some of the stories have been published in a respected on-line site of short fiction called The Deepening, it is still is not a famous print magazine. And I knew all this going in to the battle, though for some reason 2006 was my year of writing short stories.
Today I sent an update which was pretty much empty of any possible accomplishments in regard to "Ancient Tales, Modern Legends" to an editor friend of mine. And then I happened (after the letter was sent) to give my weekly peek at Rachel Vater's excellent blog, Lit Agent X.
As if I needed proof of the pudding here is what she writes in a post entitled E-Query Catch Up (from Dec. 6, 2006):
Reality, when dealing with your own work is an important, critical factor. It must at some time enter into all those dreams and hopes. It must factor into some part of your planning and aspirations. And yes, as many of you, I do have other works and ideas, both in fiction and non-fiction. And yes as many of you the process wears me down. The query letter to partial to whole to possible to waiting for weeks to reading about others who really do it in a few days, all of it wears down on me.
It is frustrating when as writers we cannot even get someone to look at what we write. Or our writing may be great but our query letters are real bad. Or we say the wrong thing, or we just cannot get the attention of the right person. And that is just the beginning of all the work.
So this post will go down as yet another of those million posts by "frustrated" authors about their inability to sell. Miss Snark certainly would tear it apart, and rightfully so. Self-pity is not a pretty thing. Depression in your chosen endeavor is ugly. Thus they would say, "Grow up and get out".
Yet in balance this is not a rant about the publishing industry nor about agents. They do their work and most do it extremely well. I am posting this just to remind all the authors out there who are searching, seeking and looking, to remember that while dreams are the stuff great things are made of, reality must and should always play a part in your plans.
Me? Yes I think the stories in "Ancient Tales, Modern Legends" are incredibly good. I also think that such a book would sell. Of course I do. Don't you believe that about all the novels and books you write as well? Belief in what you do, belief in yourself is also a very important component in your dreams-reality based life.
But I also know that without being honest with myself I will enter into a world of make-believe where nothing will ever happen.
Believe in yourself. Dream. Go for the Gold. But keep a small little window open to the market and the reality of what is going on out there.
I will continue to write short stories and continue to attempt to sell them to the legitimate markets out there. But I know that without having quite a few of them published in the great short story mags of our time, there is little chance of seeing "Ancient Tales, Modern Legends" in book form. Yes, I sigh at that thought. I allow myself that much. And perhaps it will down the line force me to stop writing anything and everything. That is also reality.
And no matter how ugly reality is, we should always face it otherwise we will turn into bitter, frustrated people. And as Pop used to tell me, bitterness makes a person mean. And mean people are ugly. So it is time for reality and inner honesty and to set your goals in the future based on your dreams. And if you choose to ignore the market and if frustrates you, do me one favor. Don't turn bitter and frustrated.
Possibly, one day, those dreams may just turn into your reality. And possibly they won't. But either way you will be satisfied with your own accomplishments. Which in the end is what it is all about, isn't it?
Posted On: Cobwebs Of The Mind
Recently I have been particularly focused on my short story collection "Ancient Tales, Modern Legends". And I know that this is the hardest type of book to sell to any publisher. Though some of the stories have been published in a respected on-line site of short fiction called The Deepening, it is still is not a famous print magazine. And I knew all this going in to the battle, though for some reason 2006 was my year of writing short stories.
Today I sent an update which was pretty much empty of any possible accomplishments in regard to "Ancient Tales, Modern Legends" to an editor friend of mine. And then I happened (after the letter was sent) to give my weekly peek at Rachel Vater's excellent blog, Lit Agent X.
As if I needed proof of the pudding here is what she writes in a post entitled E-Query Catch Up (from Dec. 6, 2006):
2. Short story collections… I don’t handle these. They are incredibly hard to sell unless you have been published in the New Yorker… and even then… I’m not actively seeking them. Poetry collections? Not at all.Reality sets in. As authors and writers we often are tempted to fight the windmills of the publishing industry. That is why blogs such as Lit Agent X and Miss Snark and The Rejecter and The Evil Editor and so on and so forth are so popular. They clearly in no-nonsense terms tell us how to approach the agents, editors and publishers in the industry.
Reality, when dealing with your own work is an important, critical factor. It must at some time enter into all those dreams and hopes. It must factor into some part of your planning and aspirations. And yes, as many of you, I do have other works and ideas, both in fiction and non-fiction. And yes as many of you the process wears me down. The query letter to partial to whole to possible to waiting for weeks to reading about others who really do it in a few days, all of it wears down on me.
It is frustrating when as writers we cannot even get someone to look at what we write. Or our writing may be great but our query letters are real bad. Or we say the wrong thing, or we just cannot get the attention of the right person. And that is just the beginning of all the work.
So this post will go down as yet another of those million posts by "frustrated" authors about their inability to sell. Miss Snark certainly would tear it apart, and rightfully so. Self-pity is not a pretty thing. Depression in your chosen endeavor is ugly. Thus they would say, "Grow up and get out".
Yet in balance this is not a rant about the publishing industry nor about agents. They do their work and most do it extremely well. I am posting this just to remind all the authors out there who are searching, seeking and looking, to remember that while dreams are the stuff great things are made of, reality must and should always play a part in your plans.
Me? Yes I think the stories in "Ancient Tales, Modern Legends" are incredibly good. I also think that such a book would sell. Of course I do. Don't you believe that about all the novels and books you write as well? Belief in what you do, belief in yourself is also a very important component in your dreams-reality based life.
But I also know that without being honest with myself I will enter into a world of make-believe where nothing will ever happen.
Believe in yourself. Dream. Go for the Gold. But keep a small little window open to the market and the reality of what is going on out there.
I will continue to write short stories and continue to attempt to sell them to the legitimate markets out there. But I know that without having quite a few of them published in the great short story mags of our time, there is little chance of seeing "Ancient Tales, Modern Legends" in book form. Yes, I sigh at that thought. I allow myself that much. And perhaps it will down the line force me to stop writing anything and everything. That is also reality.
And no matter how ugly reality is, we should always face it otherwise we will turn into bitter, frustrated people. And as Pop used to tell me, bitterness makes a person mean. And mean people are ugly. So it is time for reality and inner honesty and to set your goals in the future based on your dreams. And if you choose to ignore the market and if frustrates you, do me one favor. Don't turn bitter and frustrated.
Possibly, one day, those dreams may just turn into your reality. And possibly they won't. But either way you will be satisfied with your own accomplishments. Which in the end is what it is all about, isn't it?
Tags:
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
On The Loss Of A Child
I have no clue, honestly, if this post belongs here in Cobwebs Of The Mind.
"Maybe", the little voice deep inside says, "Teddy keep your mouth shut. This is something you so do not want to open up. This is beyond understanding and beyond normative individuals to comprehend. Be quiet. Words are just not going to work. You will fail as you must fail, and all you will get for your post is one whole lot of black and lots of pain."
Yesterday, over at my trip to Miss Snark, my eye caught the following post headline: "Samuel Greenberg, age two" and believe me folks I immediately knew I should not read further. I knew it as I knew in the cliche, day comes from night. And I knew if I did read it and found out that what I suspected to be is true, that my normative world would once again come crashing down in a whole lot of black pain. But of course, my eyes continued because I knew that the tragedy had already happened - and the events no matter how many tears would be laid at the ubiquitous throne of God, would not change. And so I discovered that a Literary Agent, Daniel Greenberg had lost a two year old son in a car accident. (NY Daily News Report)
I knew then that the seed within had been planted and the nightmares would return. It is not as if I do not know many people, who like myself, have lost children. Unfortunately, no matter how unnatural it is that a parent stand at an open grave, waiting for their own child to be lowered within, it takes place, and especially where I live, in a land torn about by war, more often than any one cares to think about.
And I also knew, oh how I know, the utter devastation the parents of this child are going to have to confront. I knew exactly how the deep dark and horrible fingers of steely death also laid a hand upon their hearts. I know just what night terrors and nightmares await these parents even in their waking hours.
Age will creep up overnight. The mind will not stop with its teasing "what if" scenario and you begin to know that madness is but a short step away. Nay, it is not a short step, it has already encompassed you and taken hold of your whole being.
I do not know the Greenberg's at all. And as an author, yes I have heard the name of the agency, and I have absolutely no remembrance if I ever wrote them a query. I am sure somewhere in the many query rejections that I have garnered, the name of this agency will show up once or twice though.
But I do know that the Greenbergs have now joined a very special society. One where you never ask for membership. A society where when you see the members gathered together, if you are normal, you shun like you would run from Satan himself. They have joined a society to which I have been a member for almost 17 years. And once in there is no way out. It is a lifetime membership with no option to leave. Ever.
The days will be replete with black and death. Breathing, which comes so natural to all of us, will be an impossible task. And no, I will not tell you it will get better. Because it simply does not get better. You learn to live with it. That is the best you can hope for. You just learn to live with it - or you don't. That will be up to you.
When I stood and eulogized my two and a half year old daughter, Nessyah Shachar, (Nessyah means "Miracle of God and Shachar means "Dawn") before she was buried I realized I had met madness. In a period of two days due to an accident which could have been averted if a gas technician had been paying attention to what he was supposed to be doing, I went utterly and totally insane. I found my wife at the time and my daughter unconscious, overcome by CO fumes. I am a battlefield medic. I am used to triage. I am used to death. I thought I had seen it all. Until I had to do triage on my own family waiting for the ambulance to arrive.
Even then, I knew I had been too late for her. I discovered them one damn minute too late. One minute which caused my life to go from heaven on earth to hell. One minute of a "what if" that would play out in my brain until my dying day.
I do not welcome the Greenbergs into this club. I do not want them to be here. I do not want any human being on the face of this earth to ever be forced to enter the club. There is no welcoming coffee and no great words of wisdom. There are no answers nor any possibility of understanding the eternal plan if you believe in such. There is just blackness and sorrow where love and laughter used to be.
I will sit in silence with them. And as Job, I will listen as they curse deep inside their hearts the day they were born. I will sit silently and hold their hands as they look upon the world and ask those same questions that man has asked since the dawn of understanding. And I will have no answer to the terrifying question that will escape from their lips: "Why?"
I will hold them in my heart. I will not only feel for them and empathize with them, I will once again make that sorrow part of my own. I will lift an accusing fist towards the heavens and scream out in pain, "Why?" with them.
I also know one other thing. Something I have learned in long years of riding a wild roller coaster which is life. I know that there is no greater force, and nothing will move the throne of He who created and maintains this world with more power and more force than the silent tears of the Greenbergs.
The Zohar tells us that one gate of the heavens, and only one, is open all the time. This is the gate of tears. And each tear is a pearl. And every single tear has a purpose. And the pain of each and every tear is not lost within the multitude.
It is beyond me. Beyond understanding. Beyond comprehension. Beyond pain. Beyond black. Beyond any emotion or feeling or thought that can ever be described with paltry words.
And so I sit in darkness with the Greenbergs. And with them, along with all those who were assigned membership into this special club, I sit in silence and allow the pain to once more assault my body. I will not look for purpose, nor for reason. I will do the only thing a frail human being can do. I will hold their hands and allow the eternal never-ending tears to fall and watch as the silent angels do their bidding and place each tear with reverence and humility before the throne of God.
And in my heart and mind, I will allow the black to envelop my soul. I will not welcome it but I will know I cannot combat it. And I will continue to hold the hands of these people whom I never met, and will likely never know and do the only thing possible for a frail human being. I will sit with them in silence, a silence full of anger and hope and love and pain, and when the black becomes overwhelming I will hold them close without words, without platitudes, without statements of eternal justice. I will hold them close through that evil blackness and in silence allow them to know there are those, sadly enough, that do understand their pain. It is all I can do and all that any human being can hope to do.
And as we say in Hebrew: "Yihe Zichro Baruch."
Posted On: Cobwebs Of The Mind
"Maybe", the little voice deep inside says, "Teddy keep your mouth shut. This is something you so do not want to open up. This is beyond understanding and beyond normative individuals to comprehend. Be quiet. Words are just not going to work. You will fail as you must fail, and all you will get for your post is one whole lot of black and lots of pain."
Yesterday, over at my trip to Miss Snark, my eye caught the following post headline: "Samuel Greenberg, age two" and believe me folks I immediately knew I should not read further. I knew it as I knew in the cliche, day comes from night. And I knew if I did read it and found out that what I suspected to be is true, that my normative world would once again come crashing down in a whole lot of black pain. But of course, my eyes continued because I knew that the tragedy had already happened - and the events no matter how many tears would be laid at the ubiquitous throne of God, would not change. And so I discovered that a Literary Agent, Daniel Greenberg had lost a two year old son in a car accident. (NY Daily News Report)
I knew then that the seed within had been planted and the nightmares would return. It is not as if I do not know many people, who like myself, have lost children. Unfortunately, no matter how unnatural it is that a parent stand at an open grave, waiting for their own child to be lowered within, it takes place, and especially where I live, in a land torn about by war, more often than any one cares to think about.
And I also knew, oh how I know, the utter devastation the parents of this child are going to have to confront. I knew exactly how the deep dark and horrible fingers of steely death also laid a hand upon their hearts. I know just what night terrors and nightmares await these parents even in their waking hours.
Age will creep up overnight. The mind will not stop with its teasing "what if" scenario and you begin to know that madness is but a short step away. Nay, it is not a short step, it has already encompassed you and taken hold of your whole being.
I do not know the Greenberg's at all. And as an author, yes I have heard the name of the agency, and I have absolutely no remembrance if I ever wrote them a query. I am sure somewhere in the many query rejections that I have garnered, the name of this agency will show up once or twice though.
But I do know that the Greenbergs have now joined a very special society. One where you never ask for membership. A society where when you see the members gathered together, if you are normal, you shun like you would run from Satan himself. They have joined a society to which I have been a member for almost 17 years. And once in there is no way out. It is a lifetime membership with no option to leave. Ever.
The days will be replete with black and death. Breathing, which comes so natural to all of us, will be an impossible task. And no, I will not tell you it will get better. Because it simply does not get better. You learn to live with it. That is the best you can hope for. You just learn to live with it - or you don't. That will be up to you.
When I stood and eulogized my two and a half year old daughter, Nessyah Shachar, (Nessyah means "Miracle of God and Shachar means "Dawn") before she was buried I realized I had met madness. In a period of two days due to an accident which could have been averted if a gas technician had been paying attention to what he was supposed to be doing, I went utterly and totally insane. I found my wife at the time and my daughter unconscious, overcome by CO fumes. I am a battlefield medic. I am used to triage. I am used to death. I thought I had seen it all. Until I had to do triage on my own family waiting for the ambulance to arrive.
Even then, I knew I had been too late for her. I discovered them one damn minute too late. One minute which caused my life to go from heaven on earth to hell. One minute of a "what if" that would play out in my brain until my dying day.
I do not welcome the Greenbergs into this club. I do not want them to be here. I do not want any human being on the face of this earth to ever be forced to enter the club. There is no welcoming coffee and no great words of wisdom. There are no answers nor any possibility of understanding the eternal plan if you believe in such. There is just blackness and sorrow where love and laughter used to be.
I will sit in silence with them. And as Job, I will listen as they curse deep inside their hearts the day they were born. I will sit silently and hold their hands as they look upon the world and ask those same questions that man has asked since the dawn of understanding. And I will have no answer to the terrifying question that will escape from their lips: "Why?"
I will hold them in my heart. I will not only feel for them and empathize with them, I will once again make that sorrow part of my own. I will lift an accusing fist towards the heavens and scream out in pain, "Why?" with them.
I also know one other thing. Something I have learned in long years of riding a wild roller coaster which is life. I know that there is no greater force, and nothing will move the throne of He who created and maintains this world with more power and more force than the silent tears of the Greenbergs.
The Zohar tells us that one gate of the heavens, and only one, is open all the time. This is the gate of tears. And each tear is a pearl. And every single tear has a purpose. And the pain of each and every tear is not lost within the multitude.
It is beyond me. Beyond understanding. Beyond comprehension. Beyond pain. Beyond black. Beyond any emotion or feeling or thought that can ever be described with paltry words.
And so I sit in darkness with the Greenbergs. And with them, along with all those who were assigned membership into this special club, I sit in silence and allow the pain to once more assault my body. I will not look for purpose, nor for reason. I will do the only thing a frail human being can do. I will hold their hands and allow the eternal never-ending tears to fall and watch as the silent angels do their bidding and place each tear with reverence and humility before the throne of God.
And in my heart and mind, I will allow the black to envelop my soul. I will not welcome it but I will know I cannot combat it. And I will continue to hold the hands of these people whom I never met, and will likely never know and do the only thing possible for a frail human being. I will sit with them in silence, a silence full of anger and hope and love and pain, and when the black becomes overwhelming I will hold them close without words, without platitudes, without statements of eternal justice. I will hold them close through that evil blackness and in silence allow them to know there are those, sadly enough, that do understand their pain. It is all I can do and all that any human being can hope to do.
And as we say in Hebrew: "Yihe Zichro Baruch."
Tags:
Friday, November 17, 2006
The Little Things In Life....
Don't worry folks. We have many more series planned for the "Writing And Despair Happy Hour" - just stay tuned! The following post is one of my rare "personal" ones. I don't often use a blog to post about my family or kids or my rare dates. Of course I have a lot to rant about in the world of agents, writing and publishing. But this one post, I will break with my tradition and rules, for just a moment.
My son is going to have his Bar-Mitzvah in two and a half months. He is really excited. Not about the party, not about the people coming and not about having to read the entire portion of the Torah in synagogue. He is excited about one thing. Getting his Tefillin or "Phylacteries" as they are called in the English dictionary. Now I assume that most of you have absolutely no idea what Tefillin are, so below are pictures.
Traditional Male Jews (and today some Females as well) put on Tefillin every morning for prayers (except on the Sabbath and holidays). It is based upon thousands of years of tradition and can be traced back to at the very least to the Temple Era. The whole real point of a Bar Mitzvah is not the party (believe it or not!), and I know you are aghast at such a statement, but it is the time when a Jewish male begins to have to wear his Tefillin every day from then on. That is what is behind the cliche - "Today I am a man."
But this post is not about teaching you the ins and outs of Judaism or of Jewish beliefs. It is about something I would hope most of us can relate to - childhood memories, a bit of nostalgia and perhaps the renewal of dreams.
Pop, my Pop, was the wisest, most compassionate and kindest man I have ever known on the face of this earth. I have said this numerous times before. He is long dead but I miss that man every single day of my life along with Mom. I guess I was one of the lucky ones. I had an incredible childhood with great parents.
It is true that I would give my right arm for the wisdom my father held in his pinky. And it is also true that I would give anything, even after twenty years, to be able to just hug my parents again.
Pop taught me never to allow bitterness to enter the heart, for bitterness leads to meanness and mean people are ugly. He taught me never to hate. He would listen to others talk in jealousy of what they didn't have and what others did have and would say, "Never be jealous of someone else's success. You have no idea of the woes and sorrows that another person carries with him. You have no idea what is in his suitcase of life." And when Pop saw someone worse off than him, he would always give a helping hand. He drummed it into me: "If not but for the Grace of God there goes I."
Folks. That is about the best advice any one can get on the face of this earth. Race, color, creed, religion all make no difference. What makes a difference is that you keep your own humanity - because in the end that is all you have. And you only have this lifetime to get it right.
So last night an important basketball game was on, and I was going to watch it with my son (we are basketball freaks). But though the television was on, he was nowhere to be found. I went into his room to see if he had fallen asleep, and there he was practicing with my Tefillin figuring out just how to put them on and wear them. (It is complicated for a child who has never done it before as there is one for the head and one for the arm and the straps must be put on in a certain way.)
When I saw him standing there with his back to me, though at times I can be an emotional person, this time I was overwhelmed with an emotion that I had not felt in a long while. The years upon this earth, of often riding the roller coaster of life, made me immediately realize this was something that was unique and something I would never be blessed to see again. There my son was, and in my mind's eye an old, long forgotten memory came out of the haze, of myself looking up into Pop's beaming face as he watched me put on my Tefillin for the first time.
My son felt my presence and turned around and said:
"Abba. I am just practicing. Don't worry. But I think I finally got it right."
He had it right. Totally. Completely. Not on his arm, and not on the straps. He had it so right though. And at that moment somehow, magically, in a moment that comes but once in a lifetime, my heart opened so wide, with so much joy and so much pain side by side, that I had to turn away for fear of my son seeing my tears fall.
And to my father in my heart I said:
"Pop. I wish you could see your grandson right now. Cause you know what? Maybe, just maybe, I think I finally got it right."
Don't Be Cheap! Leave A Comment Below. I Promise Not To Bite!
My son is going to have his Bar-Mitzvah in two and a half months. He is really excited. Not about the party, not about the people coming and not about having to read the entire portion of the Torah in synagogue. He is excited about one thing. Getting his Tefillin or "Phylacteries" as they are called in the English dictionary. Now I assume that most of you have absolutely no idea what Tefillin are, so below are pictures.
Traditional Male Jews (and today some Females as well) put on Tefillin every morning for prayers (except on the Sabbath and holidays). It is based upon thousands of years of tradition and can be traced back to at the very least to the Temple Era. The whole real point of a Bar Mitzvah is not the party (believe it or not!), and I know you are aghast at such a statement, but it is the time when a Jewish male begins to have to wear his Tefillin every day from then on. That is what is behind the cliche - "Today I am a man."
But this post is not about teaching you the ins and outs of Judaism or of Jewish beliefs. It is about something I would hope most of us can relate to - childhood memories, a bit of nostalgia and perhaps the renewal of dreams.
Pop, my Pop, was the wisest, most compassionate and kindest man I have ever known on the face of this earth. I have said this numerous times before. He is long dead but I miss that man every single day of my life along with Mom. I guess I was one of the lucky ones. I had an incredible childhood with great parents.
It is true that I would give my right arm for the wisdom my father held in his pinky. And it is also true that I would give anything, even after twenty years, to be able to just hug my parents again.
Pop taught me never to allow bitterness to enter the heart, for bitterness leads to meanness and mean people are ugly. He taught me never to hate. He would listen to others talk in jealousy of what they didn't have and what others did have and would say, "Never be jealous of someone else's success. You have no idea of the woes and sorrows that another person carries with him. You have no idea what is in his suitcase of life." And when Pop saw someone worse off than him, he would always give a helping hand. He drummed it into me: "If not but for the Grace of God there goes I."
Folks. That is about the best advice any one can get on the face of this earth. Race, color, creed, religion all make no difference. What makes a difference is that you keep your own humanity - because in the end that is all you have. And you only have this lifetime to get it right.
So last night an important basketball game was on, and I was going to watch it with my son (we are basketball freaks). But though the television was on, he was nowhere to be found. I went into his room to see if he had fallen asleep, and there he was practicing with my Tefillin figuring out just how to put them on and wear them. (It is complicated for a child who has never done it before as there is one for the head and one for the arm and the straps must be put on in a certain way.)
When I saw him standing there with his back to me, though at times I can be an emotional person, this time I was overwhelmed with an emotion that I had not felt in a long while. The years upon this earth, of often riding the roller coaster of life, made me immediately realize this was something that was unique and something I would never be blessed to see again. There my son was, and in my mind's eye an old, long forgotten memory came out of the haze, of myself looking up into Pop's beaming face as he watched me put on my Tefillin for the first time.
My son felt my presence and turned around and said:
"Abba. I am just practicing. Don't worry. But I think I finally got it right."
He had it right. Totally. Completely. Not on his arm, and not on the straps. He had it so right though. And at that moment somehow, magically, in a moment that comes but once in a lifetime, my heart opened so wide, with so much joy and so much pain side by side, that I had to turn away for fear of my son seeing my tears fall.
And to my father in my heart I said:
"Pop. I wish you could see your grandson right now. Cause you know what? Maybe, just maybe, I think I finally got it right."
Don't Be Cheap! Leave A Comment Below. I Promise Not To Bite!
Tags:
Thursday, November 09, 2006
"Help! I Have A Fire In My Kitchen"
Hear Ye! Hear Ye!
This is to announce the opening of my new blog "Help! I Have A Fire In My Kitchen.
This is a humorous blog which you too can contribute - of single parenting and learning how to cook. It will be chock full of recipes (kosher) and tales from the trenches in how a single parent who never knew how to make spaghetti - finally learned how to cook and enjoy it.
"Help! I Have A Fire In My Kitchen" also accepts recipes and humorous stories from readers all over the globe. Take a look at the blog.... It is just beginning, but I promise I will make you smile and laugh if nothing else!
Don't Be Cheap! Leave A Comment Below. I Promise Not To Bite!
This is to announce the opening of my new blog "Help! I Have A Fire In My Kitchen.
This is a humorous blog which you too can contribute - of single parenting and learning how to cook. It will be chock full of recipes (kosher) and tales from the trenches in how a single parent who never knew how to make spaghetti - finally learned how to cook and enjoy it.
"Help! I Have A Fire In My Kitchen" also accepts recipes and humorous stories from readers all over the globe. Take a look at the blog.... It is just beginning, but I promise I will make you smile and laugh if nothing else!
Don't Be Cheap! Leave A Comment Below. I Promise Not To Bite!
Tags:
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Yesterday In New York...
Yesterday, in New York, they buried my Uncle Herman. He lived a full and long life and left behind wonderful children and grandchildren.
Yesterday in New York, for probably the last time, the first and second generations of what was known years ago as the "House Of Gross" met. There were some absences to be sure. None intended. None that meant anything that would force one to think there is ill will here. Distances could not be traversed by some of the nephews and cousins (myself included).
Yesterday in New York, in a small parcel of land in Queens, in a plot of land bought so many years ago, as one man was buried next to his brothers, an end came to a whole generation.
Yesterday in New York the Gross family watched and participated in a the "end" and then looked around and saw the seeds of its rebirth.
There was the man, the husband, the father, the grandfather, the Uncle the friend. Of that person I will not discuss on a blog. It is for those who knew him and are sitting now shiva for him to tell of his kindness, compassion, smile, wisdom and love.
Then there was the brother. One of six. The fifth one in birth the last one to die. It was with him that the "House Of Gross" was truly laid to rest. He was my father's brother. My father was number two. They started out in life as Jess, Harold, Nathan, Seymour, Herman and Aaron. Their own father, my grandfather, did not live many years. They set out, these brothers did, to take care of their mother. That was their goal and they accomplished it. They made it through the depression with scars to be sure, but they made it through. The made it through World War Two, some serving in the armed forces including my father. They built a family business.They never forgot to take care of their own mother. They remained close these brothers did. They, I am sure went through periods of anger. They sometimes perhaps did not talk to one another. But they remained close. Six brothers who together and alone established families and dug their roots deep. The respect and honor they showed their own mother was legendary. I still read and hear of it, even today. They married, had their own children. The Gross family, this Gross family grew. Cousins grew up. Some stayed close. Others, such as myself, drifted far away following the beat of a different drummer. But being born into this family left one with memories and values.
Values. That is the word I am searching for. Values in a world so cynical and so egocentric, the brothers taught their children values. Secular and religious values. Each according to their own belief. Values. What a strange word to place up on the Internet at times. Values. Compassion, kindness, love, understanding. Respect. All those words which we the third and fourth generation seem to find so hard to accept and keep. For them it was simple. Values. Yet they managed to teach us, these brothers did. They managed to teach us values and respect. The ingrained it so deep in our personalities that we would rather die than betray their legacy.
There is something incredibly sad about the death of Uncle Herman that goes beyond the sadness his immediate family and grandchildren feel. There is a loss that has taken place that is beyond just that of a good human being being laid to rest after a long and fruitful life. It is the end of an era for our family. The end of a foundation and a hope, represented in all ways by the symbol of the "House Of Gross" - a farmer shaking hands with a soldier while pointing up to the white dove of peace. The House of Gross, that first generation is now gone. Three of my aunts are still with us. They are also part of that dynasty and in their own right part of their own families and their own dynasties as well.
And so as a middle aged boy I look back and try to understand with the perspective that my wise father, Pop, would show and give to others with such ease. I look back and try to see this all from a perspective of time and distance. It saddens me to know that this era is over. It saddens me to know that those Passover Seders and Hanukah parties are all but faint memories of a long lost past.
The era is over. And yet it has begun again. Perhaps the best legacy those six brothers could have left us was always there. In every word and thought. Perhaps it took time and learning to truly understand. Perhaps it is just part of life and living and learning. Perhaps this is what they call understanding with wisdom.
My father was the kindest, most compassionate and wisest man I have ever known. After being on the road to hell a few times in my life I have come, as a middle-aged boy, to appreciate his wisdom. This is what he taught me. When you see someone else who is more fortunate than you are, and jealousy takes over, try to always remember that everyone has their own package of woes and troubles. And when you see someone less fortunate, always remember, 'If not but for the grace of God, there goes I'.
That is wise and sound advice. Best you can get.
That wisdom is what six brothers left us. It is something I would kill for today. To possess their values and wisdom.
From the early 1900's when the six brothers began to be born until today is approximately 100 years. There are children, grand children and great grand-children. There are families. The Gross family in 150 years came from Russia, to the United States and some have made home in Israel. Spread out we all are. And yet yesterday, for that one day, in honor of the values, in honor of the person, in honor of their awesome wisdom, the Gross family mourned together once again.
Yesterday in New York while Uncle Herman was eulogized a great many tears were shed.
Yesterday in New York while the body was lowered into the ground, hearts were filled with pain.
Yesterday in New York, after the Kadish was recited over the mound of earth that would forever be Uncle Herman's resting place, a new generation was born.
Yesterday in New York this new generation set out bereft of guidance but ingrained with the wisdom and values that would forever keep the legacy of these six brothers alive.
May the soul of Uncle Herman and all his brothers be bound up in the bond of everlasting life.
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Categories: short stories, writing, on writing series
Getting Wasted - Writing & Editing & Publishing Short Stories
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
My Children's Children
My Children's Children
Tonight my daughter, Aderet, graduated from University. Well essentially she graduated last year, but in Israel, the graduation ceremony takes place a year later. Tonight I watched my daughter walk up and get her "official" degree to help the hearing and speech impaired in her life's work.
I watched her do this in an open garden, full of trees and flowers, one person in a large audience of parents, grandparents, brothers, sisters friends and cousins to the hundred or so graduates.
But I was special. I watched Aderet graduate, while I held her son, my grandson, in my lap and we laughed at the balloons flying high in the sky. Tonight I watched Aderet graduate, and I held my year old grandson in my arms. Tonight I watched a woman march up to the podium, and all I could see was a little girl in pigtails, trying desperately to keep up with her older brothers.
Tonight without a party, without a big family meal, without a crown and without any adornments, tonight I knew what it was like to be a king. Tonight I was a prince and king.
Somehow this was greater in its own way then Aderet's birth or her marriage. Somehow this spoke to me not of only one person or one event, but of continuum. Somehow, on this magical night, it all came together.
Tonight I held pure joy in my hands and watched with wonder at the achievements of my daughter.
Tonight made all those difficult times worth living. Tonight my daughter Aderet, made me cry in joy.
Tonight, above all, I thanked God for allowing to me live to see and participate in this day.
Tonight I held my grandson in my lap and watched my daughter graduate University with my son-in-law next to me.
Tonight, somehow, the world seemed right and perfect.
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writing, publishing, literary
Tonight my daughter, Aderet, graduated from University. Well essentially she graduated last year, but in Israel, the graduation ceremony takes place a year later. Tonight I watched my daughter walk up and get her "official" degree to help the hearing and speech impaired in her life's work.
I watched her do this in an open garden, full of trees and flowers, one person in a large audience of parents, grandparents, brothers, sisters friends and cousins to the hundred or so graduates.
But I was special. I watched Aderet graduate, while I held her son, my grandson, in my lap and we laughed at the balloons flying high in the sky. Tonight I watched Aderet graduate, and I held my year old grandson in my arms. Tonight I watched a woman march up to the podium, and all I could see was a little girl in pigtails, trying desperately to keep up with her older brothers.
Tonight without a party, without a big family meal, without a crown and without any adornments, tonight I knew what it was like to be a king. Tonight I was a prince and king.
Somehow this was greater in its own way then Aderet's birth or her marriage. Somehow this spoke to me not of only one person or one event, but of continuum. Somehow, on this magical night, it all came together.
Tonight I held pure joy in my hands and watched with wonder at the achievements of my daughter.
Tonight made all those difficult times worth living. Tonight my daughter Aderet, made me cry in joy.
Tonight, above all, I thanked God for allowing to me live to see and participate in this day.
Tonight I held my grandson in my lap and watched my daughter graduate University with my son-in-law next to me.
Tonight, somehow, the world seemed right and perfect.
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writing, publishing, literary
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Here is my SERIOUS Bio When I do publish
Ted William Gross
Lets call this - "man plans, God laughs"
Ted Gross was born and raised in New York City and in 1978, moved to Israel, and currently resides in Jerusalem.
He began his writing career in University as the op-ed editor of the University paper and wrote a series of eight editorials during that year. While in Israel, he wrote two children's books. "The Letter & The Crown"; was published in Israel, while the second, and more successful, was published in the United States by United Synagogue entitled, "Of Rabbit's Wool & Camel's Hair". While teaching comparative religion, he also had articles on polemics and religion published in Midstream Magazine, one of which was re-printed in an anthology "Smashing the Idols" published by Jason Aaronson Publishers.
However, by the time the children's books were published his family was growing, and he began work and was active in high tech from 1985 until 2001. There he functioned as a CTO — Chief Technological Officer — in three different companies, managing to take two companies from start-up phase to a buyout and a successful IPO respectively.
After having taken the last company to a successful IPO, six children and a peaceful divorce, it was time to leave high-tech and try and develop some ideas in writing. At that point, Israel embarked on "Operation Defensive Shield", and since Ted is a reserve battlefield medic, he ended up in Jenin, and the battles that took place there became front-page news all over the world. "Three Weeks In Jenin" was written soon after, though unfortunately the contract was cancelled once the United States entered into its current war with Iraq. However, an independent movie producer, did do a documentary on Ted's experiences as a medic in Jenin.
He currently is working on the "Chronicles of the Children of Heaven" (a fantasy work), on another non-fiction book entitled "Last Times" and on a cooking book entitled "Help! I Have A Fire In My Kitchen", (as well as short stories and poetry from time to time). To make ends meet, Ted owns a real-estate investment firm in Jerusalem Virgin Earth Real Estate and Virgin Earth Article Submissions an article submission site at Virgin Earth Article Submissions
Usually one can find Ted either putting out fires in his kitchen, drinking coffee in a cafe musing about the great "what-ifs" of life, assistant coaching little league baseball, dealing with one of his six children, having a fight with his sister, or walking the byways of Jerusalem with Rainbow, his golden retriever, pondering the silence of the heavens.
Short Stories Already Published At thedeepening.com
* The Heretic (Vol 1, #4)
* Tenuous Webs (Vol 1, #3)
* A Pot Of Gold (Vol 1, #2)
* The Sunflower (Vol 1, #1)
* "Reverieing" will be published in the July Issue
Technorati Tags:
writing
publishing
literary
short stories
Lets call this - "man plans, God laughs"
Ted Gross was born and raised in New York City and in 1978, moved to Israel, and currently resides in Jerusalem.
He began his writing career in University as the op-ed editor of the University paper and wrote a series of eight editorials during that year. While in Israel, he wrote two children's books. "The Letter & The Crown"; was published in Israel, while the second, and more successful, was published in the United States by United Synagogue entitled, "Of Rabbit's Wool & Camel's Hair". While teaching comparative religion, he also had articles on polemics and religion published in Midstream Magazine, one of which was re-printed in an anthology "Smashing the Idols" published by Jason Aaronson Publishers.
However, by the time the children's books were published his family was growing, and he began work and was active in high tech from 1985 until 2001. There he functioned as a CTO — Chief Technological Officer — in three different companies, managing to take two companies from start-up phase to a buyout and a successful IPO respectively.
After having taken the last company to a successful IPO, six children and a peaceful divorce, it was time to leave high-tech and try and develop some ideas in writing. At that point, Israel embarked on "Operation Defensive Shield", and since Ted is a reserve battlefield medic, he ended up in Jenin, and the battles that took place there became front-page news all over the world. "Three Weeks In Jenin" was written soon after, though unfortunately the contract was cancelled once the United States entered into its current war with Iraq. However, an independent movie producer, did do a documentary on Ted's experiences as a medic in Jenin.
He currently is working on the "Chronicles of the Children of Heaven" (a fantasy work), on another non-fiction book entitled "Last Times" and on a cooking book entitled "Help! I Have A Fire In My Kitchen", (as well as short stories and poetry from time to time). To make ends meet, Ted owns a real-estate investment firm in Jerusalem Virgin Earth Real Estate and Virgin Earth Article Submissions an article submission site at Virgin Earth Article Submissions
Usually one can find Ted either putting out fires in his kitchen, drinking coffee in a cafe musing about the great "what-ifs" of life, assistant coaching little league baseball, dealing with one of his six children, having a fight with his sister, or walking the byways of Jerusalem with Rainbow, his golden retriever, pondering the silence of the heavens.
Short Stories Already Published At thedeepening.com
* The Heretic (Vol 1, #4)
* Tenuous Webs (Vol 1, #3)
* A Pot Of Gold (Vol 1, #2)
* The Sunflower (Vol 1, #1)
* "Reverieing" will be published in the July Issue
Technorati Tags:
writing
publishing
literary
short stories
Ted Gross's Unofficial Bio - The Real Version
Ted Gross was born and raised in New York City and in 1978, moved to Israel, and currently resides in Jerusalem.
He began his writing career in University as the op-ed editor of the University paper and wrote a series of 8 editorials during that year. While in Israel, he wrote two children’s books. “The Letter & The Crown”; was published in Israel, while the second, and more successful, was published in the United States by United Synagogue entitled, “Of Rabbit’s Wool & Camel’s Hair”. While teaching comparative religion, he also had articles on polemics and religion published in Midstream Magazine, one of which was re-printed in an anthology “Smashing the Idols” published by Jason Aaronson Publishers.
However, by the time the children’s books were published his family was growing, and he began work and was active in high tech from 1985 until 2001. There he functioned as a CTO – Chief Technological Officer - in three different companies, managing to take two companies from start-up phase to a buyout and a successful IPO respectively.
After having taken the last company to a successful IPO, six children and a peaceful divorce, it was time to leave high-tech and try and develop some of ideas in writing. At that point, Israel embarked on "Operation Defensive Shield", and since Ted is a reserve battlefield medic, he ended up in Jenin, and the battles that took place there became front-page news all over the world. "Three Weeks In Jenin" was written soon after, though unfortunately the contract was cancelled once the United States entered into its current war with Iraq.
He currently is working on the “Chronicles of the Children of Heaven” (a fantasy work), on another non-fiction book entitled “Last Times” and on a cooking book entitled "Help! I Have A Fire In My Kitchen", (as well as a short story from time to time). To make ends meet, Ted owns a real-estate investment firm in Jerusalem.
Usually one can find Ted either putting out fires in his kitchen, drinking coffee in a cafe musing about the great "what-ifs" of life, assistant coaching little league baseball, dealing with one of his six children, having a fight with his sister, or walking the byways of Jerusalem with Rainbow, his golden retriever, pondering the silence of the heavens.
The Unofficial Biography of Ted Gross
Long, Detailed & A Lot More Fun
Musings, Ramblings, Dashed Hopes & Life Goes On
Before beginning this long, probably fruitless essay, I will put here what is on my home page. The reason why I write. If you do manage to wade through most or all of what is written below you will be able to discern the different phases in my writing career, (if I even have the audacity to call it a career). But if you don't the one paragraph below, may help some fellow writer arrive a bit more quicker at what really counts when you write. You and your world.
In my younger days I wrote because I thought I had something to say and wanted to be rich and famous, (I kid you not.)
Then I wanted to touch people, move them, see them cry or smile or argue over my words.
When my second children's book was published, oh so many years ago, and I was walking down a street and saw it in the window of a bookstore in Jerusalem (imported all the way from the USA), I decided I wrote because of the feeling it gave me at that moment.
As the years went by, I abandoned the rich and famous desire, and I realized that to touch people you had to be real - first and foremost to yourself - and I understood that the feeling of seeing your book in the window of a bookstore or listed at Amazon, while incredible, does not last.
I realized that all the above were excuses. Simply put, I write for me. To bring out the raw, the untouched, the hidden emotion and the passion. To let that voice express itself, first and foremost to my own conscious mind. I write to let the story out so I can read it for myself.
And when I do that, I know I will touch others. I know the book will always be in the window of my mind and that too is an exhilarating experience. And though I have no clue if I will ever be famous or rich, I do know I have made my own world richer, and I know myself that much better.
Okay, I was born...nope, forget that beginning. We have no need to go there.
Lets see, where should we start? Decisions, decisions, decisions.
Actually you will have to read "Last Times - A Chronicle of Divine Humor" for the complete story.
Especially the connection between myself and the greatest baseball player to have ever lived - Ted Williams!
But for now we will stick to writing and those little details that seem to always mess things up.
My first foray into the serious world of writing, began in University, where I was chosen as contributing editor to the Yeshiva University Newspaper. During my year as contributing editor, I wrote a series of seven editorials on University Life. I made a startling discovery that year. You can actually have an effect on people with words, and affect things that go on in your life with the right mix of humor and seriousness.
The year was 1977 and one of my contributions was actually a poem, "Gather The Harvest", in memory of those who fell during the Yom Kippur war in Israel. I have included it on the web site here, though it is long and one of my first and only shots at poetry. Another poem which you can also find on this web site, "In A Military Cemetery", also deals with the wanton death of war. (And I thank my fellow writers at the AW Forum Board for their incredible help on this one.)
The reason I mention my editorial freedom with the Yeshiva University paper, is an incident that took place in regard to the original poem of "In A Military Cemetery". It marked my career as a writer and made a lasting impression upon me. When that edition of that paper came out (I didn't even know it had been published) I was interrupted during the middle of class and told that I must report to the assistant deans office immediately. Of course I went there trying to figure out just what trouble I had managed to get myself into now. The secretary told me to go straight in, though her face was impossible to read. The woman who was the assistant dean at the time immediately asked me to close the door behind me, a strange request, but which I was not going to argue. Only then, after closing the door did I realize that she had been crying. She took a few moments to gain some composure then explained that while at lunch she picked up a copy of the University paper and made the mistake of reading my poem while eating. Since then, she said, she had been crying and she had called me to her office to let me know just what an effect it had on her.
I spent years with that story hidden deep inside of me. It was one of those times in life when something so mundane happens which is also so incredibly spectacular that only a long time later do you realize just how it changed you. Until that point in time I was writing just to show that I could do it, and better than most people. I never suffered, then at least, from doubts in my ability (now I suffer them almost every minute). I knew my articles were read and made people laugh and even snicker at the absurdity of University life. But I never imagined, never entertained the thought that with words I can make people FEEL. And once one has held that magic elixir in their hands, the moment that key has been used - only once - to open someone's' heart, it is addictive. The rest of one's life no matter how successful or how many times one fails in other endeavors, becomes a quest to use that key yet again.
Once bitten with the writing bug, that was that. Everything I did in life, on every roller-coaster that fate has taken me, I have always sought a way to write about and share those experiences. In non-fiction and in fiction. For children and for adults. I have rarely been successful. Most other times I have failed, sometimes dismally.
I married in 1978, and we moved to Israel a few months after the wedding. I began a career of teaching polemics, mostly in regard to Judaism and Christianity, and doing research into cults. This is not the place for the what led me into this field. However, I did manage to do some translations of various books from Hebrew to English for publication, and won a short story competition for Anglo-Saxon writers in Israel with a story entitled "Reflections In The Mirror of Eternity". Then Midstream, which was at the time a "prestigious" intellectual/community magazine (and still is), purchased an article of mine on Cult Behavior. That article was subsequently published in an anthology, called "Smashing The Idols" which you can view information about in the non-fiction page.
Around 1980, I was approached by a group of people, who knew of my educational work with children, (surprised you there cause I keep that a secret), asking me to write and publish my children's stories. The Jewish Agency who maintained a full publishing house at the time, offered me a contract based on a quick outline I had prepared, and I was off and running. I should have known it was too easy to believe, but back then I was still living a charmed life. The original plan was for a series of 36 children's books released on the average of one or two a year. And thus "The Letter & The Crown" was born. A full color children's book, with full color drawings on each page. This was not a cheap process back in 1981, I must remind you, and it was a laborious one as well. Computers in the industry were huge affairs and digital printing was not even being dreamt about. But the book finally did hit the market, and that was when I leaned my first and important lesson in the process of having a book published. The publisher did nothing! The book sat in their warehouse, and they were very content selling a few here and there at shows, to stores and the like. Not one advertisement as their attitude was, we published it, and if people want it they will find a way to buy it.
When I look back upon it, I realize I should have put my tushy into gear and done the marketing myself. But I was a babe in Toyland, with a book just published, and all I wanted to do was sign the damn thing after people bought it. I never forgot that hard lesson. So when the publishing arm of the Agency asked me for the next book, I was smart enough to say "thanks but no thanks" and went on my merry way trying to find another publisher for the second book "Of Rabbit's Wool & Camel's Hair", which by the way, was already written and the illustrations were completed.
I found the publisher immediately, but as fate would have it, the process of accepting the book to publication took almost 3 years, if I remember correctly. United Synagogue in the end did publish "Of Rabbit's Wool & Camel's Hair", and actually still does, and they did do a wonderful job. During that time the War In Lebanon began, Israel entered the war, which started out as a small operation and became our own Vietnam, and I became a battlefield medic in the reserves. It was during this critical time in my life that a few things happened. I began and finished a novel about the War in Lebanon, entitled "Shadows of a Dream" and my children's book was moving towards a signed contract and publication at a snail's pace, but nevertheless it was moving. I was positive that when I had finished "Shadows of a Dream" I had written the next best seller. I really was. I kid you not. I knew, I just knew, I had written gold. So let me use just one colloquialism now, a cliché if you don't mind to sum it all up: "Yeah, right!"
Now comes my foray into the writing/publishing world, and possibly it will help any new writer who is beginning to make such an entry into this world as well. Lessons learned are critical for the future. Well there I was, with the greatest novel of the 20th Century in my hands, and my second Children's Book about to be published, so what could go wrong?
Now let us get a few "facts" straight. There was not as of yet, any internet mail system. The term "email" still did not exist. Cell phones were things Captain Kirk used in re-runs of Star Trek. And the publishing industry, including agents, was as difficult then as it is today to break into. I read the books, and researched the agents as best as I could from Israel. Then I made a list, and began the incredibly tedious process of sending out query letters.
That process took yuck...months and months. I am not a patient person, but I learned patience. Air-Mail in those days took around 2 weeks if you were lucky. So I continued on my happy-go-lucky way and soon the rejections started coming in from the agents. Reject me? How dare they? But then I got lucky. Two agents requested "Shadows of a Dream". And yes, believe it or not, those two letters arrived on the same day!
Well I am going to admit something here that I do NOT suggest anyone who reads this does. I was young, in a rush, positive I had gold on my hands and sick and tired of waiting months for mail to go back and forth, and then someone to get to my ms. and decide what to do with it. So yes, I mailed the ms. to both of them at the same time. I didn't lie. I didn't tell them in the letter that it was a Simultaneous Submission I just did not tell them it wasn't.
So with a shrug and a prayer, I sent out the ms. (dot-matrix printer folks) after waiting a few days for the dot matrix to finish up 500 double spaced pages - two times. (Oh for the days of Wordstar and my old printer!) We will call these agents, Agent1 and Agent2.
I also wanted to visit Mom in NYC. So after sending these ms. out, I took a 3 month leap into the future, and started planning a trip back to the old hunting ground, telling myself all the time it was to see Mom, but knowing that I was going to start beating down every door I knew to get an agent. The timing actually worked out great. Two weeks before I left for the US, Agent1 rejected the ms. but was incredibly nice, Agent2 agreed to take it on for representation but was incredibly not nice (that is a good way of putting it, no?)
So when I got to the US I had an appointment with Agent1 who rejected my ms. and a contract from Agent2 who said there was no need for an appt. yet. I went to visit Agent1, who to this day I remember with incredible fondness. He was the agent for quite a few famous authors at the time, and boy did he know what he was talking about. And he sat with me for 2 hours, explaining first what was wrong with my ms. and why I should continue writing. (Three years ago, some 18 years after this, I was in touch with him, though he has since retired from the business.
Agent2 did represent "Shadows Of A Dream" and did try to make a go of it. She worked hard on it. Alas, when a rejection came back from Macmillan that was that. Though during this time she did negotiate my children's book contract for me as well. The funny thing is, the publisher of my children's book met her a few times, I to this day have no clue what she looks like, (though she too has since disappeared from the scene).
So the years go by. I had started "The Chronicles of the Children of Heaven" which is a story in and of itself, and I was still trying to do something with my short stories. (Naive.. go ahead and say it.) During that time my family was growing, and writing was obviously not going to put food on the table. So I stopped teaching and kind of fell into high-tech where I was to spend the next 15 or so years, some good some bad. And writing had to take a back burner.
I don't really know today, if that was a good or bad decision. I just know it had to be made. During that time I wrote little, on stolen time away from everything, though the bug was deep within me, and it hurt that I could not find the time to write.
Rolls the movie forward to 2000-2001. Divorce, burn-out at work, sick to my stomach of high tech. I take a ride on "Reading Railroad" and decide if I don't do something soon I will be spending the rest of my life bitching about something I wanted to do, rather than trying and even failing at it. So I bite the bullet one day, and off I go into the wild blue yonder of writing.
Now, it is not an easy thing to do to just start writing, or writing again. I knew that, and I took my time. I started off with a ms. I knew I would never sell, just to get back into gear. That ms. turned out to be "Last Times" which you can read some here in the non-fiction section. And then one day I pull out my old The Chronicles of the Children of Heaven and get my tushy back into gear and begin work on it all over again. I had written over the years some 450+ pages of it, so it was not all the unfamiliar to me. But I was older now (ugh!) and a bit more understanding of what had to go and not go into a book.
Then in March of 2002, Israel goes into a mini-war of sorts, called Operation Defensive Shield, and I get a reserve call up order. I am a battlefield medic in the reserves, and I ended up in Jenin. The result of that little trip to hell and back was "Three Weeks In Jenin" with some chapters available in the non-fiction section on the web site. Upon my return from Jenin, I rewrote query letters and broke all the rules. I mass submitted to a long list of agents, simply because I knew I was involved in something that was on the front pages of every newspaper. This time I did have many agents answer in the affirmative, and they wanted to see as much of the book as I had done, plus bio, plus synopsis...well, if you are a writer you know the scenario.
Interestingly enough the agent that I did pick in the end, was someone who was recommended by another agent who received my query. So take heart writers. Sometimes if your query is cool and good, or even if it is mediocre but you have a hot topic, your query will get passed around among legitimate agents. Anyways we were on our way, and suddenly I am told that a Major Publishing house is interested with a senior editor behind the project. Well, I thought I had already gone to heaven. But of course, since Three Weeks In Jenin is not in your bookstore, you already know it was never published. Cannot go into the story here, cause I have no desire to say the wrong thing. All I will say is that the book was nipped by the Chief Editor. After that well it was impossible to say, and my agent did try. The US invaded Iraq and the whole Jenin-Operation Defensive Shield in Israel became old old old news. My hope is that it will be published as a military history/military watershed book. Who knows? Jenin is still hell, and the terrorists still do their dirty work. One never knows in this lifetime.
So there I was, now with real hopes dashed, and back to the drawing board. Which with skipping a lot, brings us to the present. After the Jenin book thing, my agent mentioned in an email that the only thing she sees Publishers buying are celebrity books and the old coffee table books and she happened to say, "like cooking books". That afternoon, and I truthfully have no clue how this idea crystallized in my head, I started "Help! I Have A Fire In My Kitchen" which is geared towards people who do not know the first thing about cooking, like single parents, divorced couples or just plain couples who think eating out every night is the only way to eat. I took a look at the genre, realized there was little good cooking stuff that had any humor or personal experience, so I combined the two in "Help! I Have A Fire In My Kitchen". Yes ladies, I do cook. I just don't do dishes.
So I am one of those authors/not-authors. I live words and breathe them. I want to write, and yes, I also want to sell and get paid for what I write. Though I am not 30 anymore, I do have with a little luck and a lot of talent, a career in writing ahead of me. I know it is a difficult haul. I know I might not succeed. But at least today I can't sit back and complain that I never tried.
Today I continue working during free time on "The Chronicles of the Children of Heaven", rewriting "Shadows Of A Dream" (no I never give up - especially cause essentially it is a great novel), some Short Stories (I am a glutton for self-punishment) and think that I write a damn good short story (of course!), and every now and then add a few notations to the 150+ pages already written of the cook book, "Help! I Have A Fire In My Kitchen". When I want to get really wasted and torture myself I return to "Last Times", and am now considering editing it into one of the novels which are really autobiographical "fiction" but keeping it in first person. There are some other works as well, but they are in their infancy, and thus I am not yet willing to discuss them in public.
Thats it folks. My next post will contain links to my published works of course!
Self-promotion is a good thing!
Technorati Tags:
writing
publishing
literary
He began his writing career in University as the op-ed editor of the University paper and wrote a series of 8 editorials during that year. While in Israel, he wrote two children’s books. “The Letter & The Crown”; was published in Israel, while the second, and more successful, was published in the United States by United Synagogue entitled, “Of Rabbit’s Wool & Camel’s Hair”. While teaching comparative religion, he also had articles on polemics and religion published in Midstream Magazine, one of which was re-printed in an anthology “Smashing the Idols” published by Jason Aaronson Publishers.
However, by the time the children’s books were published his family was growing, and he began work and was active in high tech from 1985 until 2001. There he functioned as a CTO – Chief Technological Officer - in three different companies, managing to take two companies from start-up phase to a buyout and a successful IPO respectively.
After having taken the last company to a successful IPO, six children and a peaceful divorce, it was time to leave high-tech and try and develop some of ideas in writing. At that point, Israel embarked on "Operation Defensive Shield", and since Ted is a reserve battlefield medic, he ended up in Jenin, and the battles that took place there became front-page news all over the world. "Three Weeks In Jenin" was written soon after, though unfortunately the contract was cancelled once the United States entered into its current war with Iraq.
He currently is working on the “Chronicles of the Children of Heaven” (a fantasy work), on another non-fiction book entitled “Last Times” and on a cooking book entitled "Help! I Have A Fire In My Kitchen", (as well as a short story from time to time). To make ends meet, Ted owns a real-estate investment firm in Jerusalem.
Usually one can find Ted either putting out fires in his kitchen, drinking coffee in a cafe musing about the great "what-ifs" of life, assistant coaching little league baseball, dealing with one of his six children, having a fight with his sister, or walking the byways of Jerusalem with Rainbow, his golden retriever, pondering the silence of the heavens.
The Unofficial Biography of Ted Gross
Long, Detailed & A Lot More Fun
Musings, Ramblings, Dashed Hopes & Life Goes On
Before beginning this long, probably fruitless essay, I will put here what is on my home page. The reason why I write. If you do manage to wade through most or all of what is written below you will be able to discern the different phases in my writing career, (if I even have the audacity to call it a career). But if you don't the one paragraph below, may help some fellow writer arrive a bit more quicker at what really counts when you write. You and your world.
In my younger days I wrote because I thought I had something to say and wanted to be rich and famous, (I kid you not.)
Then I wanted to touch people, move them, see them cry or smile or argue over my words.
When my second children's book was published, oh so many years ago, and I was walking down a street and saw it in the window of a bookstore in Jerusalem (imported all the way from the USA), I decided I wrote because of the feeling it gave me at that moment.
As the years went by, I abandoned the rich and famous desire, and I realized that to touch people you had to be real - first and foremost to yourself - and I understood that the feeling of seeing your book in the window of a bookstore or listed at Amazon, while incredible, does not last.
I realized that all the above were excuses. Simply put, I write for me. To bring out the raw, the untouched, the hidden emotion and the passion. To let that voice express itself, first and foremost to my own conscious mind. I write to let the story out so I can read it for myself.
And when I do that, I know I will touch others. I know the book will always be in the window of my mind and that too is an exhilarating experience. And though I have no clue if I will ever be famous or rich, I do know I have made my own world richer, and I know myself that much better.
Okay, I was born...nope, forget that beginning. We have no need to go there.
Lets see, where should we start? Decisions, decisions, decisions.
Actually you will have to read "Last Times - A Chronicle of Divine Humor" for the complete story.
Especially the connection between myself and the greatest baseball player to have ever lived - Ted Williams!
But for now we will stick to writing and those little details that seem to always mess things up.
My first foray into the serious world of writing, began in University, where I was chosen as contributing editor to the Yeshiva University Newspaper. During my year as contributing editor, I wrote a series of seven editorials on University Life. I made a startling discovery that year. You can actually have an effect on people with words, and affect things that go on in your life with the right mix of humor and seriousness.
The year was 1977 and one of my contributions was actually a poem, "Gather The Harvest", in memory of those who fell during the Yom Kippur war in Israel. I have included it on the web site here, though it is long and one of my first and only shots at poetry. Another poem which you can also find on this web site, "In A Military Cemetery", also deals with the wanton death of war. (And I thank my fellow writers at the AW Forum Board for their incredible help on this one.)
The reason I mention my editorial freedom with the Yeshiva University paper, is an incident that took place in regard to the original poem of "In A Military Cemetery". It marked my career as a writer and made a lasting impression upon me. When that edition of that paper came out (I didn't even know it had been published) I was interrupted during the middle of class and told that I must report to the assistant deans office immediately. Of course I went there trying to figure out just what trouble I had managed to get myself into now. The secretary told me to go straight in, though her face was impossible to read. The woman who was the assistant dean at the time immediately asked me to close the door behind me, a strange request, but which I was not going to argue. Only then, after closing the door did I realize that she had been crying. She took a few moments to gain some composure then explained that while at lunch she picked up a copy of the University paper and made the mistake of reading my poem while eating. Since then, she said, she had been crying and she had called me to her office to let me know just what an effect it had on her.
I spent years with that story hidden deep inside of me. It was one of those times in life when something so mundane happens which is also so incredibly spectacular that only a long time later do you realize just how it changed you. Until that point in time I was writing just to show that I could do it, and better than most people. I never suffered, then at least, from doubts in my ability (now I suffer them almost every minute). I knew my articles were read and made people laugh and even snicker at the absurdity of University life. But I never imagined, never entertained the thought that with words I can make people FEEL. And once one has held that magic elixir in their hands, the moment that key has been used - only once - to open someone's' heart, it is addictive. The rest of one's life no matter how successful or how many times one fails in other endeavors, becomes a quest to use that key yet again.
Once bitten with the writing bug, that was that. Everything I did in life, on every roller-coaster that fate has taken me, I have always sought a way to write about and share those experiences. In non-fiction and in fiction. For children and for adults. I have rarely been successful. Most other times I have failed, sometimes dismally.
I married in 1978, and we moved to Israel a few months after the wedding. I began a career of teaching polemics, mostly in regard to Judaism and Christianity, and doing research into cults. This is not the place for the what led me into this field. However, I did manage to do some translations of various books from Hebrew to English for publication, and won a short story competition for Anglo-Saxon writers in Israel with a story entitled "Reflections In The Mirror of Eternity". Then Midstream, which was at the time a "prestigious" intellectual/community magazine (and still is), purchased an article of mine on Cult Behavior. That article was subsequently published in an anthology, called "Smashing The Idols" which you can view information about in the non-fiction page.
Around 1980, I was approached by a group of people, who knew of my educational work with children, (surprised you there cause I keep that a secret), asking me to write and publish my children's stories. The Jewish Agency who maintained a full publishing house at the time, offered me a contract based on a quick outline I had prepared, and I was off and running. I should have known it was too easy to believe, but back then I was still living a charmed life. The original plan was for a series of 36 children's books released on the average of one or two a year. And thus "The Letter & The Crown" was born. A full color children's book, with full color drawings on each page. This was not a cheap process back in 1981, I must remind you, and it was a laborious one as well. Computers in the industry were huge affairs and digital printing was not even being dreamt about. But the book finally did hit the market, and that was when I leaned my first and important lesson in the process of having a book published. The publisher did nothing! The book sat in their warehouse, and they were very content selling a few here and there at shows, to stores and the like. Not one advertisement as their attitude was, we published it, and if people want it they will find a way to buy it.
When I look back upon it, I realize I should have put my tushy into gear and done the marketing myself. But I was a babe in Toyland, with a book just published, and all I wanted to do was sign the damn thing after people bought it. I never forgot that hard lesson. So when the publishing arm of the Agency asked me for the next book, I was smart enough to say "thanks but no thanks" and went on my merry way trying to find another publisher for the second book "Of Rabbit's Wool & Camel's Hair", which by the way, was already written and the illustrations were completed.
I found the publisher immediately, but as fate would have it, the process of accepting the book to publication took almost 3 years, if I remember correctly. United Synagogue in the end did publish "Of Rabbit's Wool & Camel's Hair", and actually still does, and they did do a wonderful job. During that time the War In Lebanon began, Israel entered the war, which started out as a small operation and became our own Vietnam, and I became a battlefield medic in the reserves. It was during this critical time in my life that a few things happened. I began and finished a novel about the War in Lebanon, entitled "Shadows of a Dream" and my children's book was moving towards a signed contract and publication at a snail's pace, but nevertheless it was moving. I was positive that when I had finished "Shadows of a Dream" I had written the next best seller. I really was. I kid you not. I knew, I just knew, I had written gold. So let me use just one colloquialism now, a cliché if you don't mind to sum it all up: "Yeah, right!"
Now comes my foray into the writing/publishing world, and possibly it will help any new writer who is beginning to make such an entry into this world as well. Lessons learned are critical for the future. Well there I was, with the greatest novel of the 20th Century in my hands, and my second Children's Book about to be published, so what could go wrong?
Now let us get a few "facts" straight. There was not as of yet, any internet mail system. The term "email" still did not exist. Cell phones were things Captain Kirk used in re-runs of Star Trek. And the publishing industry, including agents, was as difficult then as it is today to break into. I read the books, and researched the agents as best as I could from Israel. Then I made a list, and began the incredibly tedious process of sending out query letters.
That process took yuck...months and months. I am not a patient person, but I learned patience. Air-Mail in those days took around 2 weeks if you were lucky. So I continued on my happy-go-lucky way and soon the rejections started coming in from the agents. Reject me? How dare they? But then I got lucky. Two agents requested "Shadows of a Dream". And yes, believe it or not, those two letters arrived on the same day!
Well I am going to admit something here that I do NOT suggest anyone who reads this does. I was young, in a rush, positive I had gold on my hands and sick and tired of waiting months for mail to go back and forth, and then someone to get to my ms. and decide what to do with it. So yes, I mailed the ms. to both of them at the same time. I didn't lie. I didn't tell them in the letter that it was a Simultaneous Submission I just did not tell them it wasn't.
So with a shrug and a prayer, I sent out the ms. (dot-matrix printer folks) after waiting a few days for the dot matrix to finish up 500 double spaced pages - two times. (Oh for the days of Wordstar and my old printer!) We will call these agents, Agent1 and Agent2.
I also wanted to visit Mom in NYC. So after sending these ms. out, I took a 3 month leap into the future, and started planning a trip back to the old hunting ground, telling myself all the time it was to see Mom, but knowing that I was going to start beating down every door I knew to get an agent. The timing actually worked out great. Two weeks before I left for the US, Agent1 rejected the ms. but was incredibly nice, Agent2 agreed to take it on for representation but was incredibly not nice (that is a good way of putting it, no?)
So when I got to the US I had an appointment with Agent1 who rejected my ms. and a contract from Agent2 who said there was no need for an appt. yet. I went to visit Agent1, who to this day I remember with incredible fondness. He was the agent for quite a few famous authors at the time, and boy did he know what he was talking about. And he sat with me for 2 hours, explaining first what was wrong with my ms. and why I should continue writing. (Three years ago, some 18 years after this, I was in touch with him, though he has since retired from the business.
Agent2 did represent "Shadows Of A Dream" and did try to make a go of it. She worked hard on it. Alas, when a rejection came back from Macmillan that was that. Though during this time she did negotiate my children's book contract for me as well. The funny thing is, the publisher of my children's book met her a few times, I to this day have no clue what she looks like, (though she too has since disappeared from the scene).
So the years go by. I had started "The Chronicles of the Children of Heaven" which is a story in and of itself, and I was still trying to do something with my short stories. (Naive.. go ahead and say it.) During that time my family was growing, and writing was obviously not going to put food on the table. So I stopped teaching and kind of fell into high-tech where I was to spend the next 15 or so years, some good some bad. And writing had to take a back burner.
I don't really know today, if that was a good or bad decision. I just know it had to be made. During that time I wrote little, on stolen time away from everything, though the bug was deep within me, and it hurt that I could not find the time to write.
Rolls the movie forward to 2000-2001. Divorce, burn-out at work, sick to my stomach of high tech. I take a ride on "Reading Railroad" and decide if I don't do something soon I will be spending the rest of my life bitching about something I wanted to do, rather than trying and even failing at it. So I bite the bullet one day, and off I go into the wild blue yonder of writing.
Now, it is not an easy thing to do to just start writing, or writing again. I knew that, and I took my time. I started off with a ms. I knew I would never sell, just to get back into gear. That ms. turned out to be "Last Times" which you can read some here in the non-fiction section. And then one day I pull out my old The Chronicles of the Children of Heaven and get my tushy back into gear and begin work on it all over again. I had written over the years some 450+ pages of it, so it was not all the unfamiliar to me. But I was older now (ugh!) and a bit more understanding of what had to go and not go into a book.
Then in March of 2002, Israel goes into a mini-war of sorts, called Operation Defensive Shield, and I get a reserve call up order. I am a battlefield medic in the reserves, and I ended up in Jenin. The result of that little trip to hell and back was "Three Weeks In Jenin" with some chapters available in the non-fiction section on the web site. Upon my return from Jenin, I rewrote query letters and broke all the rules. I mass submitted to a long list of agents, simply because I knew I was involved in something that was on the front pages of every newspaper. This time I did have many agents answer in the affirmative, and they wanted to see as much of the book as I had done, plus bio, plus synopsis...well, if you are a writer you know the scenario.
Interestingly enough the agent that I did pick in the end, was someone who was recommended by another agent who received my query. So take heart writers. Sometimes if your query is cool and good, or even if it is mediocre but you have a hot topic, your query will get passed around among legitimate agents. Anyways we were on our way, and suddenly I am told that a Major Publishing house is interested with a senior editor behind the project. Well, I thought I had already gone to heaven. But of course, since Three Weeks In Jenin is not in your bookstore, you already know it was never published. Cannot go into the story here, cause I have no desire to say the wrong thing. All I will say is that the book was nipped by the Chief Editor. After that well it was impossible to say, and my agent did try. The US invaded Iraq and the whole Jenin-Operation Defensive Shield in Israel became old old old news. My hope is that it will be published as a military history/military watershed book. Who knows? Jenin is still hell, and the terrorists still do their dirty work. One never knows in this lifetime.
So there I was, now with real hopes dashed, and back to the drawing board. Which with skipping a lot, brings us to the present. After the Jenin book thing, my agent mentioned in an email that the only thing she sees Publishers buying are celebrity books and the old coffee table books and she happened to say, "like cooking books". That afternoon, and I truthfully have no clue how this idea crystallized in my head, I started "Help! I Have A Fire In My Kitchen" which is geared towards people who do not know the first thing about cooking, like single parents, divorced couples or just plain couples who think eating out every night is the only way to eat. I took a look at the genre, realized there was little good cooking stuff that had any humor or personal experience, so I combined the two in "Help! I Have A Fire In My Kitchen". Yes ladies, I do cook. I just don't do dishes.
So I am one of those authors/not-authors. I live words and breathe them. I want to write, and yes, I also want to sell and get paid for what I write. Though I am not 30 anymore, I do have with a little luck and a lot of talent, a career in writing ahead of me. I know it is a difficult haul. I know I might not succeed. But at least today I can't sit back and complain that I never tried.
Today I continue working during free time on "The Chronicles of the Children of Heaven", rewriting "Shadows Of A Dream" (no I never give up - especially cause essentially it is a great novel), some Short Stories (I am a glutton for self-punishment) and think that I write a damn good short story (of course!), and every now and then add a few notations to the 150+ pages already written of the cook book, "Help! I Have A Fire In My Kitchen". When I want to get really wasted and torture myself I return to "Last Times", and am now considering editing it into one of the novels which are really autobiographical "fiction" but keeping it in first person. There are some other works as well, but they are in their infancy, and thus I am not yet willing to discuss them in public.
Thats it folks. My next post will contain links to my published works of course!
Self-promotion is a good thing!
Technorati Tags:
writing
publishing
literary
Who The Hell Are You, Ted Gross?
Who The Hell Are You, Ted Gross?
Oops. I really should introduce myself. Well, I do have a full Bio up on my web site which of course I am going to put here as well, Teddy's Web Site if you click on Biography in the upper menu (up there at the top of page), but you can click on the typewriter if you are so interested you cannot wait!
I will simply tell you on the home page of Ted Gross why I write.
In my younger days I wrote because I thought I had something to say and wanted to be rich and famous, (I kid you not.)
Then I wanted to touch people, move them, see them cry or smile or argue over my words.
When my second children's book was published, oh so many years ago, and I was walking down a street and saw it in the window of a bookstore in Jerusalem (imported all the way from the USA), I decided I wrote because of the feeling it gave me at that moment.
As the years went by, I abandoned the rich and famous desire, and I realized that to touch people you had to be real - first and foremost to yourself - and I understood that the feeling of seeing your book in the window of a bookstore or listed at Amazon, while incredible, does not last.
I realized that all the above were excuses. Simply put, I write for me. To bring out the raw, the untouched, the hidden emotion and the passion. To let that voice express itself, first and foremost to my own conscious mind. I write to let the story out so I can read it for myself.
And when I do that, I know I will touch others. I know the book will always be in the window of my mind and that too is an exhilarating experience. And though I have no clue if I will ever be famous or rich, I do know I have made my own world richer, and I know myself that much better.
Technorati Tags:
writing
publishing
literary
Oops. I really should introduce myself. Well, I do have a full Bio up on my web site which of course I am going to put here as well, Teddy's Web Site if you click on Biography in the upper menu (up there at the top of page), but you can click on the typewriter if you are so interested you cannot wait!
I will simply tell you on the home page of Ted Gross why I write.
In my younger days I wrote because I thought I had something to say and wanted to be rich and famous, (I kid you not.)
Then I wanted to touch people, move them, see them cry or smile or argue over my words.
When my second children's book was published, oh so many years ago, and I was walking down a street and saw it in the window of a bookstore in Jerusalem (imported all the way from the USA), I decided I wrote because of the feeling it gave me at that moment.
As the years went by, I abandoned the rich and famous desire, and I realized that to touch people you had to be real - first and foremost to yourself - and I understood that the feeling of seeing your book in the window of a bookstore or listed at Amazon, while incredible, does not last.
I realized that all the above were excuses. Simply put, I write for me. To bring out the raw, the untouched, the hidden emotion and the passion. To let that voice express itself, first and foremost to my own conscious mind. I write to let the story out so I can read it for myself.
And when I do that, I know I will touch others. I know the book will always be in the window of my mind and that too is an exhilarating experience. And though I have no clue if I will ever be famous or rich, I do know I have made my own world richer, and I know myself that much better.
Technorati Tags:
writing
publishing
literary
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